Ignorance Is Bliss
by lionesseyes13
Summary: What was Obi-Wan's first meeting with Dexter like? Read and find out.


Disclaimer: If I were George Lucas (observe, if you will, my masterly employment of the subjunctive case, which indicates that I don't harbor under the delusion that I am), I would be a lot richer and considerably older than I am now. I would also have noticeably more white hairs from imagining all those space battles and those terrifying scenes with Darth Vader.

Reviews: Feedback is always welcome, so feel free to hand this friendly animal some nuts. It's all the money she ever gets from her writing, you know. I respond to all signed reviews.

Ignorance is Bliss

The cramped commercial vessel that fourteen-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi's Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had managed to convince the gruff pilot of to convey them back to Coruscant after they had resolved a trade dispute between the neighboring worlds of Kalist V and Kalist VI in a fashion that was equally unsatisfactory for both factions touched down on the landing pad of one of the congested Corsuscanti spaceports. This was the closest to the Jedi Temple that Qui-Gon could persuade the grumpy navigator to drop them off.

Well, at least escaping the curt pilot was worth the lengthy walk back to the Temple, Obi-Wan attempted to console himself as he snatched up his duffel and disembarked the transport on the heels of his mentor. Even though he would have to be certain to watch his belongings closely since they were in the lower-middle class stratum of Coruscant where theft was fairly frequent, it would be nice to get out of a ship, anyway.

If there was one thing he despised, it was flying. There was nothing pleasant about the experience. It started with the ear-popping and stomach-churning sensation of breaking through a planetary atmosphere. Then, there was the atom-twisting switch to lightspeed. Of course, there was also the added bonus that there were rumors that glancing out of a viewport at the stars, no more than faint smears of yellow and white luminescence flickering by on an obsidian backdrop at that speed, would induce insanity if one gazed at them for too long. Personally, he wasn't prepared to vouch that this was factual, but he didn't find it that hard to credit. After all, he was feeling rather disoriented at the moment, and he wasn't prepared to eliminate the looking-at-stars-soaring-by-at-lightspeed-for-too-long explanation.

Such thoughts were a distraction when he was striving to battle his way through the throngs of Coruscanti civilians, though. As such, he shoved them out of his mind until he was safely out of the spaceport. He was about to contemplate them again now that they were on the less crowded permacrete walkways when he realized that Qui-Gon was turning left, which was surprising.

"I thought the Temple was that way," he remarked, nodding his head to the right as they exited the bustling spaceport in a stream of sentients. Obviously, he was even more directionally challenged than he had envisioned. On the plus side, however, he still could discern which way was up and which down. At any rate, he suspected that he could… Maybe this was how it felt to be inebriated. If it was, he had no desire to sip alcohol.

"It is," Qui-Gon informed his bewildered apprentice, as the adolescent fell into step beside him.

"Then why are we going this way, Master?" Obi-Wan pressed, more bemused than ever, and wishing fervently that Qui-Gon had the foresight necessary to spot his next inquiry when it was quite apparent. Perhaps his instructor did sense his follow-up questions, though. Maybe the man just enjoyed torturing him. Given how many sadists inhabited the galaxy, that was a definite possibility.

"I want to introduce you to an old friend of mine, that's why," explained Qui-Gon, offering an enigmatic smile that made his eyes twinkle.

"Oh." It was one syllable, but it was enough in this case. Obi-Wan's suspicion of any being that his Master alone could see the redeeming attributes of was revealed rather eloquently in that monosyllable.

"'Oh', indeed, Padawan," chuckled Qui-Gon. While they turned a corner and headed down another packed pedestrian walkway, he continued more seriously, "Don't fret. You'll like Dex, I promise."

"You said I'd like the pilot, too, Master," Obi-Wan pointed out. He hadn't cared for the pilot of the ship that transported them back to Coruscant. He hadn't approved of the man's inability to keep his irritability to himself. Why couldn't he bite back half of the curses that spilled out of his lips, or at least endeavor to do the same with some of his belches? Vulgarity was not appealing, at least not in Obi-Wan's opinion.

"I'm sure the pilot is a very nice person on the inside, because he must have a very soft interior to construct such a harsh exterior to repel beings," his Master reasoned. Obi-Wan decided that you couldn't really argue about the relative attractiveness of an individual's insides without operating on them, and he most certainly did not desire to chop into such a revolting human. Therefore, he made no response as Qui-Gon went on, "I'd only just met the pilot, however, and I've known Dex for years. Dex is a lot more agreeable than the pilot was, I promise."

Obi-Wan was still debating inwardly the merits of this assertion when, half an hour later, they arrived outside a restaurant with a neon holobanner that proclaimed it was "Dexter's Diner" in glittering maroon letters. From the outside, it appeared to be a typical blue-collar café. However, when he and his Master strode into the eatery, he discovered that it was, in fact, noticeably cleaner than most other such establishments were, although that admittedly did not function as much of a compliment.

As Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon passed shiny maroon booths loaded with workers munching on sandwiches and salads between their complaints about their employers and fellow laborers, the formidable bartender raised all four of his muscular arms in welcome.

"Qui-Gon!" he called cheerily, beaming as the Jedi approached the counter. "I'd hug you, but the bar is in the way, and Bretton here won't come back and fill my pocketbook if I trample over him like a mad reek."

"It's great to see you again, too, Dex," Qui-Gon answered with equal warmth.

"So, what can I get for you?" asked Dex, pushing a pair of menus across the chrome counter at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

"A Bantha Blaster this time, please," Qui-Gon decided after a cursory examination of the menu before him. "After all, nobody makes them like you do."

"I choose to interpret that as praise, rather than an insult," guffawed Dex. Glancing at Obi-Wan, who was frowning down at the menu he'd been provided with, the proprietor of the café stated, "You definitely look under the legal drinking age. What non-alcoholic beverage can I pour for you?"

"Where did all the commas go, and what is with all the apostrophes?" The words burst out of Obi-Wan's mouth before he could prevent them, showing that Qui-Gon's predictions that he would be a talented diplomat one day were nothing more than wistful daydreams. It was just so frustrating to read a list of fruits in smoothies with no commas to separate them, and it was even more agonizing to see "muja's, juma's, and quilla's" without any indication of what the fruits were possessing. Obviously, Dex had been enamored of the notion that an apostrophe could never be wrong when he had typed the menu.

The fact that Obi-Wan was convinced that there was a universal law that ordained that the amount of apostrophes in circulation remained constant also increased his vexation. After all, Dex was utilizing at least a hundred apostrophes incorrectly that now probably could not crop up in "it's" when necessary. Yes, the number of apostrophes in the universe would remain the same, but now he would have twice the amount of reasons to blind himself or bash his head against a wall until he was cross-eyed. Then, he'd be on approximately the same literacy level as a vast majority of the Galactic Republic's population.

"I'm afraid that's not on the menu," declared Dex amiably.

"It was a comment about the menu," Obi-Wan clarified, although he surmised that Dex was aware of what he had been referring to. "Commas separate items in a list so they don't become a jumble that creates a migraine in a reader, and simple plurals don't require apostrophes. Every time you've got an 's,' you don't need to announce its presence with an apostrophe."

"Intellektuals is stupit," snorted Dex, waving a dismissive hand the size of a banquet platter.

"Smart sentients don't mix up simple plurals with singular possessives― stupid ones do," Obi-Wan volleyed back, flushing. If there was one thing he detested more than flying, it was the arrogant presumption of the ignorant that anyone who possessed an iota more education than they did was somehow an elitist or else was useless in practical scenarios.

"Obi-Wan, enough," admonished Qui-Gon softly, resting a restraining hand on his Padawan's shoulder.

"Sorry," Obi-Wan mumbled automatically to Dex, bowing his head. However, the words were more rooted in courtesy than honesty. After all, he believed that if you couldn't stand to be corrected for your errors, you shouldn't make mistakes, or at least not ones that any primary schoolchild could detect.

"It will be the Alderaanean Smoothie for you, then, Obi-Wan, because the rest are too spicy for you," observed Dex. With that, he pivoted and started to blend together the ingredients for the Bantha Blaster and the Alderaanean Smoothie. "You're spicy enough as it is."

After that, Obi-Wan judiciously determined that it would be prudent for him to nail his jaw shut. Therefore, he was silent as he slid into a chair beside his teacher at the counter. When Dex carried over their drinks and settled his bulk into the vacant seat on Qui-Gon's left, Obi-Wan sipped quietly on the cold aquamarine liquid that Dex had furnished him with as his Master and the restaurant owner swapped news. Finally, long after the two Jedi has swallowed the last remnants of the beverages Dex had concocted for them, Qui-Gon and Dex embraced and bid each other farewell.

Since he was confident that the older man hadn't forgotten his dispute with Dex over the fundamental rules of Basic grammar, Obi-Wan waited for some reprimand from Qui-Gon as they exited the café and commenced their journey back to the Temple. Yet, he offered no comment as they twisted through the hordes on the walkway, nor did he break the silence that had descended between them when they boarded an airbus that would convey them back to the Temple.

Although it was early afternoon, the airbus was still jammed with passengers. The occupants of the public transport mainly consisted of gawking tourists, the snoozing elderly, truant teenagers slurping on beers that had been concealed in juice containers, and young children with the jitters in their legs as they chewed on candies, watched closely by their haggard mothers. As the airbus was crowded, the only available seating for Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon was in the rear.

They had been seated for a few moments before Qui-Gon murmured, "You shouldn't have said what you did to Dex, Padawan."

"I was right, Master," Obi-Wan protested. When his companion arched an eyebrow at him, he elaborated, "Lists need commas, and apostrophes are for contractions and possessives. You can't just throw one in whenever you feel like it. That's just wrong."

Consider the poor apostrophes, imprisoned forever in the air, screaming to anyone who would listen that they were legitimate punctuation marks and imploring for rescue from their current ignominy. Really, just because there were no prohibitions against punctuation abuse, that was no excuse to mistreat apostrophes.

"Very well. Perhaps I should have phrased my remark better with my young grammarian at hand. Of course, grammatically speaking, you were quite correct," allowed Qui-Gon. "Yet, from a social perspective, you were wrong."

"Why, Master?" Obi-Wan wanted to know. "I just told him the truth. Aren't Jedi supposed to being truth and knowledge wherever we go?"

"We're intended to bring enlightenment, or wisdom, wherever we travel," his Master corrected gently. "Knowledge and wisdom are not synonyms, no matter what the thesaurus states on the contrary. Knowledge speaks, and wisdom listens."

"I guess I'll never be wise, then," concluded Obi-Wan, sighing.

"You're so fatalistic," chuckled Qui-Gon. Sobering, he inquired, "What is the point of language, Padawan?"

"To communicate, Master," Obi-Wan hedged, positive that the obvious option in this instance must be wrong.

"Exactly," Qui-Gon confirmed to his shock. "The goal of language is to communicate. Thus, Dex's grammar, mangled though it undoubtedly was, was sufficient to communicate with his audience of blue-collar workers, who aren't renowned for the intellectual heights they've attained."

"Are you implying that I shouldn't correct people's grammar in the future, Master?" Obi-Wan's forehead knotted in consternation.

"No, I'm merely establishing that you should bear in mind that not everyone in the galaxy has received the benefit of an excellent education like you did before you critique someone's grammar," responded Qui-Gon. "Dex is among those individuals who have not been the recipients of a fine education. He was raised on a backwater world where there were few institutions of learning, since the indigenous population wasn't concerned with making themselves understandable to others. When his parents passed away, he took to itinerant careers like mining and trading. Although he never picked up more than a smattering of book-learning along the way, he knows more about the galaxy than some galactic cartographers. Now, he owns a diner and makes amazing Bantha Blasters."

"The Alderaanean Smoothie was delicious," added Obi-Wan, recalling its sweetness on his tongue. It alone compensated for the bland and dry ration cubes that he had been compelled to consume for days on end, which were designed to be nutritional, vaguely edible, and nothing more. Honestly, the quality of his cooking alone was enough cause to cultivate Dex's acquaintance. Unluckily, though, Obi-Wan suspected that the alien was as fond of him as most sentients were of a bomb that was about to explode on them. When this notion occurred to him, he bit his lip and then asked awkwardly, "Master, do you think Dex will ever like me?"

"He is fond of you already." Qui-Gon's eyes gleamed as he made this assertion.

"He is?" Obi-Wan echoed, astonished.

"Dex may not appreciate book-learning, but he does respect intelligence," his Master informed him. "For some reason comprehensible only to his messed-up brain, Dex has always equated a smart mouth with a smart head, possibly because he possesses a sharp tongue of his own. No, you have a friend for life in Dexter Jettster. In fact, because Dex can't stand being wrong, he'll probably edit his menus to take into account your criticism."

"Ah, in that case, I should have spoken, Master," Obi-Wan reasoned.

"When you look up 'stubborn' in the _Dictionary Galactica_, Padawan, you'll find your name next to it," pronounced the addressed wryly.

"Oh, I don't think that I'll ever surpass you in that manner, Master." Obi-Wan flashed a rare grin.

At this, Qui-Gon smiled slightly, and the two of them spent the rest of the return trip to the Temple in comradely silence.


End file.
